Desperado in Love
by Grenade
Summary: Aubrey finds out the true meaning of love and the consequences of not following her heart.


**Desperado In Love  
>I have table rage. I find time to draw my comics and yet I can't finish my stories. Deeeepression. Ungg, I shouldn't start new long-fics but I guess I just wanted it to be known and anticipated for a second chapter, if you know what I mean. And I'll probably re-look some old fan fiction and see if I can see some sorta inspiration in them. Sorry that this chapter is uber short. I guess this can be the prologue or something.<strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I feel like it's been a long time since I've written my disclaimer…**

Aubrey's POV

When pain wraps around your heart, it hurts. It feels like it digs and scars itself into your life source but at the same time, it's like it rips out what keeps you alive. Pain is something I'm not accustomed to and that's probably because of the way I was brought up. I'm not going to blame my parents for keeping me in a safe environment and giving me what I need in life, plus more. But I _will_ blame them for shielding me from the experience of hurt and pain. I've never cried since I could understand what was happening around me. Since memory dated back to when I was three, pain had never been introduced in my life. I've never recalled falling down or getting hit. Tears barely streamed down my face, staining my cheeks and falling off my chin. I've always been happy.

But this time, it's no exception. I'm hurting, and it's all because of _him._

The moment we met was the moment I got dragged in. His presence, his aura—it just captivated my attention. I played along to his truthful charade but I genuinely didn't care about what he does or who he's with. I've always felt so superior to him to the point where his flirtatious acts seemed so childish. I never thought more of him than just an acquaintance even if we've known each other for so long. I knew that there was nothing that would happen between us, nor would I ever leave any room for it. Men had always dragged me down and I just had a feeling that he was no different. I was right. He was just some playboy Latino who changes his sexual partner within an hour. He never meant much to me but I guess I'll admit that I do miss his presence when he's not around. It's like something apart of me is gone—ripped away from me and I just can't seem to get it back when he's out of my sight.

With every touch and every word that he said to me, it sucked me in—trapping me into a deep-hearted relationship.

He grew on me and soon, as much as I would never admit it back then, I couldn't live without him. I've always distanced myself from other people—never really made any friends. I was scared that if I were to get too close to people who aren't related to me, I'd get hurt. That's why friends never really came to my mind when having a good time. Every day he spent with me, I just got closer and closer to him and his persona. I learnt a new thing about him every single day. I notice the small little habits he has like the way he holds his pen or the way he bites his lower lip when he's feeling embarrassed. I notice how he runs his fingers through his hair as a sign of not giving up or the way he approaches me in a different manner. I notice these things and now I just feel like I know too much about him. The only way we could ever relate is through our love of dance. We met during a Dance Central tournament and his style just seemed self-taught. I knew in that moment that he's not worth my time, but obviously, he made _me_ worth his.

He was stubborn and conceited. He never took no for an answer. In fact, no to him just meant, _I'll try again tomorrow._

His attitude, his way with words—it was such a foreign world all jam packed into this one person. The tournament eventually ended and that meant that the contestants would part ways with whatever pride they had left. Some were given the proposal to form crews and I was just fortunate enough to be offered that chance. It wasn't just because I needed to higher up my status in society—but I just felt that I needed some sort of reason to keep the Latino bounded to me. He's indented into my life and I can't let him go. If he's gone, I'll break. Back then I knew that I wasn't in love with him—no, this wasn't love. This was just me trying to keep whatever bonds I have with those I _possibly_ care for. But thinking back now—I'm just plain old stupid.

I was in love with him. I just didn't want to admit it. This thing—it snuck up on me and I'm regretful.

I'm regretful because I didn't give him the attention he yearns. I'm regretful because I didn't say the words that I wanted to say. I'm regretful because I just am. They say that you don't know what you have until it's gone—but in my case, I knew that I had him. I just didn't know what he would leave. How could I, the most sophisticated person I can possibly be, not see this coming? A train can run me over and it can never compare to the pain I'm suffering right now. It's like gravity. He's what keeps me safe and in this world and without him, without his Latino smile, without his vibrant charisma, I'm just floating around like a lost leaf.

_Dear, Angel_

_This is my first letter to you since you left me._


End file.
